After my morning-long wine tour, I was tired and took a nap. But I do not regularly take long naps; at most 15 minutes and I am ready to go again. I was only in Tarija for the weekend, so I needed to get out and see some things.
I was told about a place overlooking the city called the Mirador de los Suenos. The boy at the front desk of the hotel did not know what I was talking about, but showed me a picture of a Mirador with a different name. Well, that was the one. I found a taxi driver who agreed to take me there for 10 Bs, though he said it was not far. I asked if he would wait while I visited and he said, “of course.”
The Mirador was not open. So, I was about to give up, feeling I had missed out, because it looked kinda cool. As I was leaving, I hear some music in a room at the guard post. The guard is inside watching TV, his pants unbuttoned and he his shirt pulled up exposing his stomach. He told me the Mirador would be open at 3:00. It was not quite 2:00. I asked if it were possible for him to open it if I gave him a few extra bolivianos. It cost 1 Bs, and I offered him 10. He said sure and proceeded to open the Mirador, and then lock it behind me.
The Mirador is cool. It is shaped like a wine glass and covered in mirrors. It is not very tall, may four-stories in total. I climbed to the top and had some nice views of Tarija and the mountains beyond. As I was leaving, I noticed that the lower level was covered with wall art, most intentionally put there, but some put there by teens expressing themselves.
When I was finished, my taxi driver was sitting on the steps enjoying the sun. He had waited like he promised. He then drove me to the Plaza Principal. To my surprise, when I gave him a 20 Bs, he gave me back 15! He didn’t want to cheat me since it was so close. I gave him a tip for being so nice and taking care of me. Tarijans are just that nice.
A side note. In Santa Cruz, if you are crossing the street, you had better watch for cars, they own the road and you need to get out of their way. In Tarija, they will stop for you and wave you across. It flustered me more than once as I was rushing across a street.
I lunched at the Gatto Pardo (Gatto is Italian for cat, with only one “t” it would be Spanish; pardo means spotted; but I never got the connection to a jaguar or leopard). It was the restaurant I ate at the night before. Families would be eating at the tables outside and friends would stop by and kiss cheeks, or would honk horns as they drove by. For all the dignity of the place, it had the feel of home.
I explored a little after lunch. Tarija has two plazas side by side. The one closest to my hotel is the Plaza Sucre. It seems to be more suited for young people. There are lots of teens visiting other teens or eating ice cream. The night before there were kids break dancing and a street performer, dressed as a statue.
Two blocks away is the Plaza de Armas, or Plaza Principal. Like Sucre, it is filled with beautiful roses, but it also has a gorgeous fountain that the pigeons love. The Plaza Principal makes me think of what a Latin American plaza should be like. There are families enjoying the shade and feeding pigeons. There are the elderly, dressed in their Sunday best, visiting old friends. There is the lady selling corn to feed the pigeons who told me she is ugly; I found her to be the most beautiful thing in the plaza. There is the man selling popcorn. Another taking pictures. A lady selling balloons and her sister selling cotton candy. There is a man selling newspapers; and I am amazed at how many, old and young, who buy the paper. It is the place where you feel safe. It is what a small city is supposed to be like.
That afternoon, I was wondering why there was no church in either plaza. I guess that was the one thing that stood out so different from what I was accustomed to. While walking around, I noticed a block away, a beautiful colonial church. I walked the block to discover a third plaza. Three plazas side by side! This plaza seemed quiet and hidden. It was covered with flowers and the most beautiful little church one could imagine.
I roamed the streets some more and sat for a few hours writing. In fact, I wrote my first four blogs on Tarija that afternoon, including this one.
Around 8:00, I was hungry again. I had seen a little pizza place, called Pizza Macondo. A more eclectic little place you could not find. Every table was different. Every chair was different. The shelves were covered with interesting artifacts. The ceiling bedecked with strings of lights and garlands of origami swans. A little girl ran all over the restaurant taking the flowers off the table, deciding they were there for her. Nobody ever told her they weren’t. I ordered a locoto pazzo pizza (locoto is a Bolivian hot pepper, and pazzo is the Italian word for crazy); it was delicious. The next time in Tarija I will go back there first.
I sat in the plaza for at least another hour before deciding I needed to sleep.
Love sightseeing with you. Wish I could have had pizza with you.
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